Waking Up Alone
by Handwritten
Summary: Friends with benefits can never last long. Someone will eventually start falling. Happy Valentines Day? Namixas


**Waking Up Alone  
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_So busy showing me where I'm wrong  
You forgot to switch your feelings on_

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Falling in love is one of the worst things you could do. In most situations. And, in my predicament, it was definitely one of my poorer choices.

And falling for a musician can be even worse. Yes, supposedly a man who can work an instrument is extremely sexy (and I'll admit that it is) - but the emotional baggage that comes with the package? I would almost say it's not worth it.

Roxas threw everything he had into his music career. He didn't see the problem with not returning my calls, but he had no issues with calling me up at three in the morning, asking if he could come over.

During those years, it felt like I was hanging off the edge of a building with my bare hands. Roxas was slowly peeling my fingers off one by one…and eventually, I would tumble down, meeting him at the bottom. Roxas had fallen off long ago.

He had been a part of his band since college (though he still played plenty of music all throughout high school, supposedly) and we met in our second year of attending a large college, full of people from all over the world. I had gone to a cafe one night, to pick up some coffee (I had been helping a friend study for his exams), and his group had been playing there in the stuffy building.

I hadn't been particularly drawn to him at the time. I just saw a sweaty boy, hair spiked up, shirt clinging to his lanky body; his teeth clenched as he pounded away at the drum set like his life depended on it.

_And I suppose, in a way, it did._

After paying for my coffee, I left. I went back to the dorm, and stayed in for the rest of the night. I didn't expect to notice him in one of my classes the next day…but my eyes picked out his dusty hair out of the large crowd. I stared perplexedly at him for several moments, not recognizing him until a redhead male, who had been playing the guitar that night, came and slapped him across the shoulder.

"Namine?" A female hand lightly grazed my shoulder, and I flashed a smile before moving ahead into the room. The boy was promptly dropped from my mind as the professor began the lecture for the day.

I ran into him twice later that week. Not literally - for example, I saw him walking with his friends outside the Coffee House, and once again near one of the dorms. I always seemed to misplace the memory of him, until I noticed his presence -- then each one-sided meeting flashed through my head. He aroused my curiosity. I didn't know anyone who played the drums (or any instrument, actually) - how often did he practice? Did he want to do it for the rest of his life? Did he know how rare it was for a musical group to actually make it somewhere?

I finally got a closer look at him at a party. Well, outside out of the party. I saw him, leaning against the low brick wall surrounding the fraternity house, the bad music spilling out onto the street. When our eyes locked, his head tilted, and a cute little smile spread across his face. I drew closer, tucking my hand further beneath my sleeve.

"Hey."

"Hi." I replied. "…You're a musician, right?"

"How'd you know?"

"I saw you play once."

He smiled again. "What did you think?"

"I don't know much about music." I shrugged. "But it was cool."

A few hours later, he had me pressed up against the very wall, his tongue fighting with mine; my hands rifling through his hair as our bodies shivered with mutual appreciation.

_There goes finger number one._

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We met for coffee five days later. We hadn't moved past making out that one night, but as we sat together in the dimly lit room, his palm felt warm against my knee. I definitely wasn't one to move quickly in a relationship, but there was a part of me that just wanted to _let go _for once. We didn't talk once. I opened my mouth to speak a dozen times, but always closed it a few seconds later. All I could think of was how his hands felt as they traced the small tear on the side of my jeans.

After an hour of silent coffee-drinking, I invited him back to my room. There was an unspoken agreement as his hands fumbled with my bra. A silent approval as my body moved uncontrollably against his. Perhaps some might find it weird if a couple is so quiet as they make love for the first time… but I'll say that it couldn't feel more right as the only sound was his breath brushing against my cheek.

_My grasp on the ledge was weakening._

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Roxas and I didn't see much of each other. I ended up dropping the only course we had together (it clashed with my art classes, and I didn't need the credits anyway) and he was so involved in his music that he got together with his band on most week days. We often spent our weekends together. And they always went the same way.

We met up, and tried to follow the 'date' guidelines. But halfway through every meal, Roxas' hand would slip farther up my thigh. My hand would fumble against his - not quite stopping him, but letting him know I felt it. My own thumb would rub against his knuckles, traveling to his forearm. No one ever noticed our subtle touches, but I sure did. My breathing would become shallow, and I would only last a few minutes before grabbing his hand and heading back to one of our rooms. Whichever was closer.

Even though some saw us as a couple, no one ever questioned how we never laughed together, or did couple-y things. Roxas didn't like crowds, unless he was playing in front of them. If he had left an uncompleted song sitting on his desk to meet up with me, his eyes would dart, and his fingers would fidget until I waved him off.

"I won't be able to see you this weekend. I have a show." - How many times did I hear that? And how many times did he wake me up in the middle of the night, kissing me with horrible urgency until I gave in? - and I always woke up alone.

_I was slipping…_

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"What are you and Roxas doing for Valentines day?" A friend asked.

I bit my lip. "I don't know yet."

"He's keeping it a surprise?" She winked at me. "I know how that feels."

I laughed halfheartedly, looking down to conceal how my eyes filled up with salty tears. I actually knew what was to happen on the 14th of February...

I would be going to the airport. Wave as the man I loved boarded the plane to Europe, his broad shoulders disappearing in the crowd of bags and noisy families, his band members trailing after him with smiles on their faces. My hand would slip to my side, and a sigh would rise to my lips. The lips that he hadn't bothered to kiss goodbye. And I had pretended I hadn't noticed how our hug was stiff and uncomfortable.

Why did I feel so hurt? I knew our relationship was a lie from the very beginning. Roxas wasn't one to fall in love. He wasn't one to wrap a girl up in his arms, and whisper quietly. He was one hell of a kisser, but he had a barricade around himself that I could never get through.

And as I slipped back into the yellow cab to head back home, I would let myself fall -- my cries being swallowed up as the sky took me in.

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_Your love is a fraction...  
It's not adding up_

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**AUTHORS NOTE:** Valentines Day is coming...and knowing that an onslaught of gushy, sentimental oneshots will be coming, I decided to write a deliciously depressing Valentines Namixas oneshot :D. And it's supposed to be full of loose ends...so you, as a reader, can interpret whatever you want, however you want. And I'm not generalizing musicians as a pain in the ass...it just kind of popped in o_O. My cousin plays the drums, and I swear I've never seen such an angsty college boy.  
Anyway. I think this is more suitable for the holiday named after a priest who was beaten half-to-death (then beheaded) for secretly marrying couples in ancient Rome.

And, people, 'friends with benefits' almost never lasts. Eventually, someone is gonna start falling :) unless you've got a really suckish personality, of course.

***Sorry I've been gone for so long...I lost some distant family in the earthquake in Haiti, so I've been in the Dominican Republic the past few weeks.***


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